


Bun In A Bottle

by Scaramedn



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-04-08 00:38:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19096201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scaramedn/pseuds/Scaramedn
Summary: Archaeology is the study of the past - dead cultures and extinct languages. What archaeologist Nicolas Wilde discovers on a dig is definitely from the past, but is in no way dead. What will he gain when he frees the genie from the lamp? A fortune beyond dreams? A grisly demise? Or more than he can handle?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another story. It was a little gift from my muse. At 2:00am. I'm not happy with her, but I can't argue with the result. I'm also undecided on this one. If you want to weigh in on the topic, reviews are the way to go. I know I have a ton of active projects, but I can't help it. Constructive feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!

“And our fearless hero trekked through the dunes for days on end, with no hope of help, all the way… to the dig site,” Nick grumbled to himself. “In the blistering heat. Uphill. Both ways. In the middle of nowhere. With a hangover.”

 

He sighed. His head throbbed and his feet were scorched, but he’d made it to the main site from camp. It was only two hundred meters, but he had to cross sand hot enough to boil water on contact. Nick was not built for the desert. He was a little short for a fox, but that didn’t diminish his thick, red coat in the least. Sweltering his way through his days was old news, but not a day went by that he didn’t consider shaving his tail.

 

“Become an archaeologist, Nick! That sounds great! You’ll get to spend all your time in the library, researching dead cultures and myths, barely ever seeing another soul.” He snorted. “And when you finally get your big break to see those exotic places you’ve always dreamed of, you’ll end up talking to yourself because there’s no one within six thousand miles. You’ll eat the same things every day for months.  There won’t be anything to drink that isn’t warm…”

 

Nick looked out over the rocky, sand-filled landscape, blinking dust from his bright green eyes. “What the hell was I thinking?”

 

It’d been six weeks since he’d seen another soul. The last caravan had come and gone, leaving him enough supplies for six months. Canned and preserved foods, emergency medical supplies, a whole boatload of his research materials and reference books—all delivered and left in his little camp. Then, they’d left. Since then, he’d seen no one. Nick sighed and shuffled into the decrepit gateway of the ancient ruin.

 

“My great discovery!” He grumbled snidely. “The culmination of thirty-four years of life.”

 

This was supposed to be his big break. Almost a decade earning his degrees and two years scrounging up the grants and investment had led to this. He’d found the bloody city! And they’d cut his funding. Cut him off entirely, in fact. The letter Nick had received three months ago had made it abundantly clear that the university wanted nothing further to do with him, nor did the private investors. He was on his own and anything he found was no business of theirs.

 

“I’m the proud owner of a huge pile of rocks.” He was getting tired of his own lip.

 

Walking through the grand halls of the buried city, Nick could only be amazed. This was the discovery of a lifetime. The architecture had never been documented anywhere, before. The stones used in the construction weren’t native to the region in any way, suggesting this place had once been a massive center for trade. The size of the place alone suggested a population in the millions and long before Rome reached the same milestone. This should have been a dream come true!

 

Nick’s fists clenched. “Of course, they stopped caring when there was no room filled with gold for them to plunder.”

 

His first three weeks had shown good progress. His educated guess at the site had paid off almost immediately and they’d had plenty to report by week three. Unfortunately, that was where the good news stopped. Another project that was certain to turn a profit had appeared and sucked up all the funding. His project—which held massive implications for ancient anthropological development on a continental scale—was reduced, then sidelined, then cancelled, and finally effectively disavowed.

 

He’d spent two weeks refuting the dismissal letters and fighting to get the university to back him, to no avail. He’d only had two months from project authorization to the start of the dig. Travel, acclimation, and site setup in a foreign nation—by any standard, that was an incredibly short timeframe and he’d managed it. His nearly immediate results should have accounted for something.

 

The final nail in the coffin had been the arrival of Finnick during Nick’s last visit to civilization. His friend had arrived at his room with a pot of tea and a scowl on his face. The only indicator Nick needed was the

fact that Finnick wouldn’t meet his eyes for more than an instant.

 

“Nick, I hate to tell you this, but you’re fucked.”

 

Nick glanced up from his papers. “Don’t say that. Not yet.”

 

“Man, pull your head out of the sand.” The little fox snorted in disgust. “Your theory was going to turn the whole of academia on its head. The fact that you’ve turned out to be right?” He shook his head. “No one wants to hear it. Between the academic firestorm your discovery would cause and the political impact, the people in charge want your work buried.”

 

“They sent me here to see if I was right.”

 

“They sent you here so you could cool your heels in the desert for a few months looking for a daydream. You’re talented, but no one took your ideas seriously. You’re young, unestablished. They wanted to give you a reality check.”

 

Nick slapped his notebook shut. “And then I found something.”

 

“Uh huh.” Finnick sipped his tea. “Your lesson in patience became an embarrassment. Now, all anyone wants is you discredited.”

 

Nick felt his stomach in his feet. “They wouldn’t.”

 

Finnick nodded. “The PR machine is running flat out. At this point, you’re a pariah. If you come back, your evidence will be called a hoax and whatever you think you’ve done will be suppressed.”

 

“So, I’m done,” Nick croaked.

 

“As an academic? Yeah. You’re done.” Finnick hopped down from his chair and headed for the door. “I may be able to scavenge an assistant’s position somewhere for you. That may become a career of sorts.” He shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

“Thanks, Finn. I’ll… wait for your call, I guess.”

 

“It’ll be a while, Nicky. A few months, at least.”

 

“I’ve got funding for another eight months if I fire everyone and work the site myself.”

 

Finnick stopped with his paw on the door handle. “That’s insane.”

 

“Maybe so, but what else should I do? Spend the next two seasons drunk in a country that doesn’t serve alcohol?”

 

Finnick leaned against the door. “The hashish is good.”

 

Nick regarded him flatly. “My point stands.”

 

“You want to preserve your reputation for posthumous validation.” Finnick muttered as he pinched his muzzle.

 

“It’s better than sitting on my ass and watching the sun go by.” Nick stood and started packing. “At least, I can do something to keep my mind busy while you work your magic.”

 

“Hey, I promise nothing,” Finnick snapped. “I’ll do what I can but if you end up a history teacher in some small-town berg, that’s what happens.”

 

Nick nodded absently. “I’ll stretch the money as long as I can.”

 

Finnick waved his paw in disgust, giving in. “How will I reach you?”

 

“I have a radio at the site.” Nick said over his shoulder form the wardrobe. “It’ll be on between five and six in the morning and at night between seven and eight. The local switchboard can put you through to me easily enough.”

 

“No satellite phone?” Finnick asked in surprise.  


Nick stopped packing and looked at his friend like he was insane. “Do you have any idea what those cost?”

 

“Alright.” Finnick rubbed his face hard. “Alright! Just do what you need to out there and don’t get killed. The last thing I need is you dead of a scorpion sting.”

 

“There aren’t any streams out there for me to carry one across on my back.” Nick chuckled weakly and turned to face his friend with a smirk. “I make no promises. They’re good eating.”

 

“You and your fables…” Finnick grimaced, then grinned and clasped Nick’s paw. “Good to see you back.”

 

Finnick left and Nick had returned to the site. All of the graduate assistants had disappeared overnight. No one wanted to be associated with him, or his work, once they heard the news. The workers had trickled away after their final paydays. Within a week, the camp had dwindled to him and a very old jackal who said he reminded her of her grandson. She took care of him for a couple weeks, but left with her grandson when he arrived to collect her. He looked nothing like Nick at all.

 

The caravan’s arrival had been a welcome, if brief, respite from the loneliness a week later. Since then, Nick had been alone. Aside from an occasional radio call from the local rangers, he had no contact with anyone. The sun rose and set every day. The wind blew, the sands gently shifted and scorpions were no longer a tasty treat. His sense of defeat was quickly growing into ennui. Despite all this, Nick kept working.

 

The painstaking process of unearthing artifacts, photographing them, classifying and cataloguing… It was tedium of the highest order. Nick knew the work. Not long ago he would have sworn he enjoyed it. Now, as he hefted a huge, ornate bottle out of the sand, all he felt was indifference. The piece of history he held in his paws was worth a fortune. Purple glass, filigreed with tarnished silver and crusted with amethysts.

 

“If it was gold bars, they’d care,” he muttered bitterly to himself. “Just melt them down and it’s instant cash.”

 

“Maybe there’s something left in it.” He chuckled as he gently worked at the ornate stopper at the mouth of the bottle—it had to be catalogued separately, anyway, he reasoned. “A little hare of the fox that bit you.”

 

A moment later, he was on his back as a whirlwind of purple, pink and grey engulfed the room. Wind howled like a thousand demons of legend and it was all Nick could do just to crawl to the wall and cower.

 

Then, there was silence—deafening, cacophonous silence. Nick cracked an eye and scanned the room. Nothing had changed at all, aside from the rabbit standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed. She was petite, curvy and dressed in silks that were sheer enough to leave nothing to his imagination, but still keep her modesty. Barely. It was obvious he’d spent way too long alone in the sun.

 

“Mortal!” she boomed. “Prepare to feel my wrath!”

 

Nick slumped against the wall holding his head. “Ugh…”

 

“Mor-” her head quirked. “Mortal?”

 

“Whaaat?” he groaned.

 

Her eyes darted around in confusion. “I’m about to smite you. Shouldn’t you be running or something?”

 

“Nope!” He pulled himself unhappily to his feet. “I don’t run from my own hallucinations.”

 

She scoffed. “Hallucinations? I’m not a hallucination. I’m real.”

 

“That’s it. No more camel milk before bed.” Nick’s shook the sand from his clothes and headed for the door.

 

“Hey!” she called to his back.

 

Nick flinched. “Could you keep it down? My headache has a migraine.”

 

Her ears sagged. “You’re what?”

 

“Alright… Here’s the deal.” He turned to face her, pinching his muzzle.

 

Nick took a deep breath and steadied himself. This wasn’t the first time a mammal had endured a hallucination. He knew what it meant and how to handle it.

 

He faced his delusion squarely and took his own mind to task. “I’m in the middle of the dessert, dehydrated, alone and probably suffering heat stroke after a night of smuggled Grappa and camel milk. I am currently talking with a figment of my imagination—a rather dim one, too—that’s decided to show up looking like a harem girl, because I’ve spent too long around ancient Ottoman texts.” He held up a finger forestalling her response. “Now, I’m going to the well for a very long drink and then on to my tent for the rest of the day. I’m clearly not well.”

 

“Now, listen here, mortal-” she sputtered indignantly.

 

“Shh!” Nick plopped a finger on her lips, silencing her. “You are welcome to come along and continue to annoy me, but I’m leaving.”

 

“You aren’t going anywhere,” the apparition blustered, blocking his path. “When I was imprisoned, I swore for the first five hundred years to shower riches and reward to whomever released me. For the second five hundred years, I swore vengeance upon them!”

 

He rolled his eyes and side-stepped around her. “Can I get the reward first and then the smiting?”

 

“I-” She blinked. “What?”

 

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m not sticking around to hear out your carefully crafted speech.” He walked backwards as he spoke. “Besides, you’re my hallucination, so I know exactly what you’d say, anyway. The only delusion I’m interested in has a porn soundtrack, so either you can get on your knees or you can get out of my way.”

 

Her face and ears flushed. “I kneel before no one but my master!”

 

“That’s a good start, but not enough to keep me here.” He wiggled his fingers at her and slipped out the door. “Toodles!”

 

Nick tromped through the sand towards his camp with a purpose. He barely felt the usual searing heat on his paws. Of all the outcomes he’d envisioned for this expedition, only the bad ones were coming to pass and he was fed up with it. He pulled a bucket of water from the well and filled his water bladder before heading for his tent. Once there, he plopped the bladder onto its peg to hang and pulled out a half-empty bottle of Grappa. He needed some hair of the fox and a nap.  
  
Hours later, the sun was down. The cold of the desert night had seeped through Nick’s campsite, rousing the todd. He fumbled to light a traveler’s lamp and checked his watch.

 

“Damn…” he flumped back onto his cot. “Nine o’clock. Sorry, Finnick.”

 

Nick wanted to go back to sleep, but two things stopped him. One was a very urgent call of nature. The other was the bottle he’d found. Assuming that it hadn’t been a dream, that artifact was valuable. If nothing else, it would pay for his plane ticket and possibly a bit more if he found a good buyer. Not what he wanted, but he didn’t have the luxury of academic ideals, anymore. He had to survive.

 

For the first time in months, he genuinely looked into the future he had waiting for him beyond the dig site. He didn’t see much. Even if Finnick managed to find him something, Nick had years of hard work ahead of him to repair the damage being done to his reputation. I was entirely possible he’d never recover no matter what he did. At the least, he’d need a nest egg. And if Finnick found nothing… The shiver up his spine was only partly due to the desert cold.

 

“I may as well see what I can get from this place.” He swallowed his own distaste. “Academically and personally.”

 

Once he’d answered nature’s call, Nick collected what he’d need—what he termed his graverobber’s kit. If the dig was disavowed, then no one could complain if he took what he found. The city didn’t exist and there was nothing for anyone else to claim. It sickened him, but there wasn’t much choice. He had to look out for himself.

 

Retracing his steps through the halls and alleyways, Nick found himself filled with self-loathing. This wasn’t a central area of the city. It was homes. Nice homes, admittedly. They’d managed to survive for a millennium under the desert sands and were still architecturally sound. The roofs didn’t even leak. They were an archaeological marvel, but they were places people lived. The remains of their lives deserved the respect of preservation, not plundering.

 

He sighed as he shuffled up to the semi-unearthed structure he’d been working in earlier. “It’s not much of a difference, Nicky. Private collectors or a museum. Both pay and one pays better.”

 

As he entered the structure, he heard a sound that stopped his feet. It could have been sand blowing in the wind. It could also have been sniffling. His eyes closed and he steeled himself. There was no way that Nick Wilde was going to be frightened off his dig by his own imagination. He gripped his lamp and shifted his rucksack more firmly on his shoulder.

 

The light from his lamp shone off the glittering purple bottle when he entered the room. It also illuminated the rabbit. Nick slapped himself. Hard.

 

“Ow…” Nick flexed his jaw. “Not dreaming. Great.”

 

The lapidae curiosity was dressed the same as he remembered. Her clothes were sheer, curves displayed, and stature small. She was the source of the sniffling. As he approached, she opened her eyes. They shone in the darkness with an eerie amaranthine light.

 

“Not dreaming.” Nick repeated to himself. “Not dreaming. Not dreaming.”

 

“I told you that this morning,” the rabbit croaked.

 

“You told me you weren’t a hallucination. There’s a difference.” He wanted to slap himself, again. This was not the time for pedantic observations.

 

“You must be a scholar,” she quipped.

 

That brought him up short. “How’s that?”

 

Her laugh was watery. “Only a scholar would quibble over such a minor detail.”

 

Nick couldn’t help but chuckle. It fizzled quickly. The longer he looked at her, the more improbable she became. If he wasn’t dreaming, there was the very real possibility he was speaking to something that shouldn’t exist. In the stark light of his lamp she appeared normal enough. Her appearance would pass for a rabbit to anyone’s observations, until she looked them in the eyes.

 

Her eyes glittered in the lamp light, but Nick remembered their first meeting. He swallowed thickly and lowered the lamp’s shutter part way. At the change in light, she lifted her eyes to his and his breath caught. Her irises glowed with an ethereal, smoky purple hue. They were captivating and terrifying. Further proof she wasn’t mammalian appeared when she smiled weakly. Two tiny fires kindled in her eyes, like banked coals in her pupils.

 

It was all Nick could do to keep his feet and ask, “What are you?”

 

“I was once a revered djinni. I served this house,” she gestured around herself vaguely, “a thousand years ago.”

 

Legends began drifting up from Nick’s memory and clicked with her arrival. “But you were imprisoned.”

 

She nodded feebly. “And now, the empire is gone—consumed by the sands of time.”

 

“Why were you imprisoned?” Nick asked as he edged closer.

 

“It matters little, now.” She shrugged. “All the players in that petty drama are dead.”

 

“Have you been in here all day?” He felt like a moron.

 

The flat look she rewarded him with could have melted stone. It was blunted slightly by the sniffling and the red-rimed eyes. That, however, only made him feel like a cad for having nothing else to offer their exchange.

 

“I rode the winds to the corners of the Empire, looking for any sign of what I knew. When that failed, I searched for my people. Everything I found was… strange.” She shifted, making herself smaller. “I returned here before sunset.”

 

Millions of things flitted through Nick’s mind. He was speaking to a creature of legend. She’d been present during the heyday of the city he’d discovered. She was a treasure trove of knowledge just waiting to be tapped! She was miserable, alone and afraid, stuck in an alien place with everything she’d ever cared for gone. She had nothing. Not so different from himself.

 

Empathy was generally a shortcoming among academics. There wasn’t much call for it, especially in a branch as cutthroat as his. It was a challenge to unearth the sense of humanity necessary to offer her a hand up. Her huge, frightened, confused eyes staring up at him made it a lot easier. Sometimes, he hated being male.

 

He held out his paw to her. “Come on.”

 

She looked at the appendage and then him curiously. “To where?”

 

“To my hovel,” Nick grumbled to himself before clearing his throat. “My camp isn’t far from here. The least I can offer you is hospitality.”

 

“That would be… welcome.” The rabbit took his paw and stood. “And who are you?”

 

“I’m not so sure, anymore.” Her perplexed expression amused him and he continued, “My name is Nicolas Wilde, but everyone calls me Nick. Past that, well… It’s a work in progress.”

 

The smile that grew on her face confused him. It looked considering, proud—unusual reactions, he thought as he collected his lamp. “Do you have a name?”

 

“I am a Djinni.” She touched her forehead and bowed in a gesture he’d never seen before. “I have no name, but the one I am given.”

 

That gave him pause. “So, I need to give you one?”

 

“Need? No.” She shook her head and smiled. “It would help, though.”

 

“Judy.” He winced as soon as the word left his mouth.

 

“That is my name?” She inquired. “Why do you look displeased?”

 

“If I’m giving out names, the name of an old…” he struggled to find a good word, “infatuation would be a bad one, I’d say.”

 

“Not at all.” Her paw reached up to gently brush the dust and sand from his whiskers. “It says much what comes to your mind at moments of inspiration.”

 

As Nick looked into her eyes, he tried to understand what was happening. There was no desire in her actions and no promise. Her gestures were simple and without subterfuge. Strangely, he felt as though he was being weighed, measured. Tested. It was a peculiar sensation.

 

Clearing his throat, he collected himself enough to say, “My camp is this way. I think we could do with some food.”

 

The rabbit smiled and bowed in acquiescence. “Lead on, then, Nick.”

 

Back at camp, Nick did what he could to make good on his offers of hospitality. It wasn’t until he tried to bring Judy into it that he realized how embarrassing it was. When the workers had all departed, they hadn’t bothered to disassemble any of it, so Nick was effectively the sole occupant of a small town. Several courses of sleeping tents, workshops and store houses were all passed by in an increasingly awkward silence. His only attempt to explain left his feeling foolish. Throughout their trek, Judy said nothing. Instead, she merely listened and seemed to take it all in.

 

Once he gave up his rationalizations, they made good time. The area he actually used was quite limited. He guided her to his tent and then showed her where the latrines and showers were. The latrines she seemed amused at—possibly due to his awkwardness—, but the idea of the showers fascinated her when he explained them.

 

“You mean, you make it rain on you, instead of sinking into a pool of water to bathe?”

 

“Yes, I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

 

“How peculiar.” She cast a considering eye over the shower stall. “You must show me how it is done.”

 

“We can discuss that tomorrow.” Nick tried not to think about what she was suggesting. “Right now, I think some food is in order.”

 

“What foodstuffs could you have in this place? There is nothing for many miles.”

 

“Some of it you’ll recognize. Some of it you won’t.” He led the way to the mess tent. “Some of it, you’ll wish you didn’t.”

 

“That is not encouraging,” she commented as she followed him through the flap.

 

A moment later, he heard her gasp. He’d flicked the lights on without thinking and clearly startled her.

 

“Sorry about that.”

 

“Light without fire… Interesting. I once heard of such a feat accomplished far east of here.”

 

Nick paused in the middle of putting on an apron. The idea she just presented would overhaul every commonly accepted theory on technology in the middle east, at the turn of the last millennia. And she said it like it was passing the time of day. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.

 

“It’s not a dream,” he reminded himself. “It’s not a bloody dream.”

 

“Of course, it isn’t,” he heard her reply as she joined him in the kitchen.

 

In the brighter light, he finally got a good look at her without the heat, hangover, or shock dulling his senses. It brought into sharp relief just how long he’d been without company. And how much longer than that he’d been without female company. Her choice of seat on the counter near him did nothing to blunt that realization.

 

She was close as could be gotten to the idea of “perfect”, at least to him. He liked petite females, grey fur and curves. What she wore only accented her features. She was open, earnest, frank and obviously intelligent. That was straying into dangerous territory for the reynard. There were quite a few females in his department back at the university who could turn heads at fifty paces, but were as sharp as a pound of wet leather. They were what he considered “art females”—nice to look at, but they could stay on the gallery wall. A smart female was something else. It was that particular trait that had gotten him in so much trouble and hurt so badly.

 

His eyes traveled over the rabbit in silk and he wondered to himself why on earth he’d given her the same name as the female that had done him so much harm.

 

“You’re staring.”

 

Her words snapped him out of his own head. “Sorry! I’m sorry. I, um, drifted off into my head there, for a moment.”

 

“There’s no need to apologize.” She leaned back and crossed her legs. “I don’t mind.”

 

“Are you teasing me?”

 

“It’s my nature.” She rolled her hip and slid to lay on her stomach across the counter. “Djinni are playful. It’s been a long time since I could indulge myself.”

 

Rather than respond, Nick set about preparing something close to a meal. There was plenty of everything, but all of it was unappealing to him. His supply of local fresh foods was long gone. Vegetables, fruits, cheese, honey, dates and olives were all available in preserved form and tasted like it. He was sick of camp bread, as well, but there was nothing else.

 

As he prepared, his mind drifted and he forgot he had company. The loneliness took hold again, as did the isolation. His hands slowed into their typical indifferent pace of preparing a boring meal he’d barely taste and he plodded through it. Two bowls and a small plate were placed on the cafeteria style serving counter. Once the kettle for tea and his little coffee pot were starting to boil, Nick pulled them from the heat. The coffee went into an urn and the tea into a teapot. He set them on the tray beside his other dishes. That done, he placed a salt cellar onto the tray and braced himself on the work surface, staring into space.

 

When the paw touched his arm, he shrieked.

 

“Good gods, rabbit!”

 

“Peace, fox!” She waved her arms and winced. “Calm yourself.”

 

Nick deflated, slumping against the counter. “You scared me half to death.”

 

“Yes, you screamed fit to wake the dead.” Judy lifted his chin to meet her eyes. “Where did you go?”

 

For a long moment he couldn’t speak. “I’ve… Been here alone for a while. I forgot you were there. I’m sorry. I just… went back to my routine.”

 

Her paw slid along his jaw to rest against his cheek. “You have been alone for a long time. Too long.”

 

Nick shallowed and removed his apron, hanging it on a peg. “I usually eat in my tent.”

 

Judy followed him to the front of the counter, but beat him to the tray. Without a word, she lifted it and turned towards the tent entrance. Nick was a little surprised, but not unduly. He’d embarrassed himself enough that she was being helpful. Not a proud thing, but appreciated.

 

When he arrived at his tent, he barely recognized it. His cot, sea chest, and luggage was moved out of the way. In the center of the floor, his rug had been turned into a dining space. His tea cup and coffee mug had been found and added to the spread, along with a pair of glasses.

 

He pulled down the water bladder and she reached for it, but he lifted it out of her grasp. “A poor host lets his guest serve him.”

 

Her eyebrows rose, but she made no protest. Nick sat opposite her and filled the glasses with water. Somehow, he was unsurprised when she moved to sit closer to him. Her eyes were filled with curiosity. It made him smile.

 

“Don’t stand on ceremony. You haven’t eaten in a millennium.” She looked at him in confusion and he smirked. “You must be hungry.”

 

She snorted, plucked an olive from a bowl, and ate. “My first.”  
  
Nick wanted to ask what she meant, but found a date shoved into his mouth the moment he opened it. Taking the hint, he left the questions for later.

 

Some time later, the dishes had been picked clean. A small pile of olive pits was the only evidence that food had ever been present. The tea pot was empty courtesy of a certain djinni’s enjoyment. She’d tried everything—even the coffee, which she claimed tasted like ash. When the meal ended, Nick pulled out the last bottle of Grappa and filled a glass while she removed the tray and dishes to the side. With the bottle empty, Nick set it on the top of his sea chest and offered the cup to Judy.

 

She bowed as she sat. “Bread and salt, figs and wine. You promised hospitality and you have fulfilled your promise.”

 

As she drank, Nick had to force himself not to stare. “I’m glad I managed that much. I have no idea what your empire considered hospitable.”

 

“You’ve done very well, despite not knowing.” She passed the glass back to him. “My people would have been pleased.”

 

“Speaking of your people,” Nick began, “how is it we can communicate? I don’t know the language of this place and you’ve been in a bottle until this morning, so how?”

 

She smiled and shifted to recline next to him. “The Djinni possess the gift of tongues. All languages are known to us.”

 

“That’s convenient.” Nick sipped the wine.

 

“Indeed.” Judy lifted the glass from his paw and drank, again. “I’m surprised that fact did not survive in legends.”

 

Nick snorted and accepted the wine, again. “There are many stories about Djinni or that have them in the narrative, but they aren’t exactly in-depth tales.” He went to sip the glass and found it was empty. “Damn.”

 

Before he could move, Judy stood and collected the bottle he’d left on the chest. She poured, refilling the glass. “I’d swear that was empty.”

 

“It was,” she replied. “One of my own gifts.”

 

Nick blinked for a moment and pinched himself on the arm. “Still not dreaming…”

 

Judy laughed. “You are a strange one.”

  
“Lone archaeologist in the middle of the desert? Yeah, I’m a bit strange.” He took a large swallow. “To be fair, your sudden appearance didn’t do a lot to refute my assumptions. I half expected you to offer me three wishes, or something. Like in the legends.”  
  
“Oh, those stories are true.” She took the glass and drank. “Wishes can be offered, but they will not come true as you’d think.”  
  
Nick wiggled into a more comfortable recline. “Yes... those stories always have unfortunate consequences for the wisher, don’t they?”  
  
“You suspect me of mischief.” She smirked, offering him the refilled glass. “You should, but you have nothing to fear. As a scholar, you know that history and legend are rarely truth.”  
  
“Judging from my own experience, I’d say they never are,” Nick said mostly to his wine. “Not the whole truth, anyway.”  
  
The silence stretched. The wine was working its magic in his blood, but that was not ideal. Nick had been starved of company for too long and he wanted to enjoy it. A moment of consideration later, he placed the glass on the sea chest and levered himself to his feet.

 

“I think I want to get some air.” He offered his paw to Judy. “Would you care to join me?”

 

With a wordless smile and a nod, she took his paw and followed him out into the night. There was starlight and a waxing crescent moon in the sky—plenty to see by. In the stillness of the desert night, the pair walked out to a dune that overlooked the camp. Nick plopped down and leaned back on his arms to enjoy the stars. Judy joined him, but chose to recline facing him instead. In the ethereal light, her fur shone and Nick was hard pressed to keep his eyes skyward. The glow of her eyes made it worse.

 

As the silence had stretched, he heard her voice through the dark. “What would you do with your three wishes?”  
  
“Really?” Nick chuckled. “Is this where the fairy tale goes wrong for the hero?”  
  
She shrugged. “It’s a question.”  
  
“The classic answer is ‘wealth, women and long life!’,” he scoffed, “but that’s always ended disastrously.”  
  
“And I am disinterested in the answers of others,” she pressed. “What do you want most? What three things do you most desire?”  
  
Nick sat and thought. She was in complete earnest. It sobered him slightly.  
  
“What I want...” The wine in his belly swirled uncomfortably, “Is for my mother to be well, healthy and comfortable for the rest of her many days.”  
  
Her ears sparked to full attention. “Is she unwell?”  
  
“No! She’s healthy as an ox.” He sighed and shifted to lay on his back, staring at the stars. “But she gave up a lot for my education and future. She deserves better than working hard every day for the rest of her life as a small business accountant. Especially, when I’ve failed so spectacularly.”  
  
She hummed at his answer before asking, “Your second wish?”  
  
“To be vindicated in my lifetime.” He could taste the bitterness of his own words. “That my discovery of this city be acknowledged and accepted by academia before my death.”  
  
“And your third?” Her voice was somehow very close to his ear. He didn’t even hear her move.  
  
The words were out of his mouth before the thought was fully formed. “To never be lonely, again.”  
  
Her paw landed gently on his chest. “Family, honor, and humility. Worthy desires well chosen.”  
  
He side-eyed her. “But you weren’t offering to fulfill them, correct?”  
  
“No.” She giggled. “Not directly. Some are impossible for one being, even me.”  
  
“Small reliefs...” He sighed in relief, then tensed. “Directly?”  
  
“That isn’t to say you couldn’t achieve them...” Her paw came to rest on his chest. “With my help.”  
  
The only thought in his head was, “Huh?”  
  
She held out her hand. “Please.”  
  
Nick offered his own, in turn. He was unsure what she wanted, but he was completely unprepared for the tiny dagger that appeared in her other paw, glittering in the starlight. Before he could react, she pricked his palm. He tried to yank his hand away, hit her grip was like iron. The dagger vanished. As he watched, caught between fascination and flight, Judy lowered her face to his paw and licked the small rivulet of blood. It was followed by a kiss to the same spot and the paw tingled. When she leaned back, he felt the wound was gone.  
  
“My second.”  
  
Before Nick could puzzle out her words, or voice a question, he had all thought blasted from his mind. Both her paws descended on the front of his trousers, caressing him. He watched as his belt and fly were undone, freeing him into the night air.  
  
“When you told me to kneel, did you think I was unaware of what you wanted?” She smirked as her paws slid over his manhood, coaxing him quickly to full arousal. “The act is old, even if the names are different.”  
  
He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a paw over his mouth. “Be not afraid. I am no innocent. I know how to please a male.”  
  
Then, to his astonishment, she worshipped him. She descended upon his manhood as though he were a long-lost lover, kissing and caressing, bathing him with her tongue and lips so slowly and thoroughly he thought he’d go insane from the pleasure. She was no amateur. The sensation built and built until nick was sure he couldn’t take any more. Then she slipped the head of him into her mouth and he learned what pleasure was.  
  
All he comprehended was that his back was arched and his paws were grappling for purchase on anything. After an agony of what felt like hours the pleasure stopped and he panted on the desert floor. There had been no release, but he felt as though he was floating on air. Glancing down, he saw her waiting, poised over his member with a grin. It deepened and she flicked her tongue out to lap at him. He gasped at the sensation as much as the fact that her tongue was unnaturally long and had three forks.  
  
Her tongue flicked out again and again, reaching further with each pass. Before long, it was curling around him and more with every lick—once, twice, three times her tongue corkscrewed around him and it didn’t stop. He felt as though he was being cocooned in heat and pleasure which grew as more and more of him was wrapped in her oral appendage.  
  
Finally, she stopped. Her frighteningly long tongue was wrapped around him from tip to knot and he was taught as a piano wire from her ministrations. He chanced a look and wished he hadn’t. Her smiling up at him as her tongue rolled up and down, pulsing along his length was too much for him. His eyes rolled into his head and his mind emptied as his seed spilled into her mouth.  
  
He was only vaguely aware of her speaking a moment later. “My third.”  
  
Nick sat up and forced his mind into gear. “Wha-what?”  
  
“I’ve partaken of your generosity, your life’s blood and your essence,” she crooned. “I am now yours, willingly bonded to your service.”  
  
Nick could only goggle at her words as she climbed up to face him eye to eye.  
  
“As to your wishes, I will do all I can to see them come to pass.” Her paws lifted his hand and turned it so she could kiss his palm. “Your mother’s future will be simple enough.”  
  
It took him four tries to ask, “How?”  
  
“My people are of the earth and know her treasures.” She smiled tenderly. “Wealth comes to us as naturally as breath. For your honor, all my knowledge and wisdom are yours. You have merely to labor and ask the right questions.”  
  
His mind whirled as he digested the implications.  
  
“And your last wish, is the simplest,” She purred, pressing her cheek against his. “I fulfill it myself.”  
  
“Wait.” His throat was dry as he whispered, “You mean-”  
  
“You will never be lonely again, master.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The readers have spoken! This story received the most interest from my readers so it will be the first to be continued. I'm sorry, it's taken so long to post, but I have very good reasons for the delays. I have a 3-month-old to take care of and a new job in a completely new industry to contend with. Put simply, I'm running close to dry on free time. I'm writing when and where I can, but it's very slow going. Rest assured that all my stories will continue as soon as I can free up enough brain cells and free time to sit at my keyboard for longer than twenty seconds. That said, I think it's time we get on to the good part. It's a little rough and unedited, but still servicable. Reviews and feedback is always welcome.

Nick gingerly opened the door and walked into his new apartment. It was a nice two-bedroom, two-bathroom unit on the second floor, overlooking the heavily wooded park behind the building. It was spacious—far more so than he’d had previously in the city—and definitely not what he should have been able to afford. His paw reflexively touched the smartphone in his pocket. He’d checked his banking application a dozen times that day. The balances of his checking and savings accounts were healthy. Very healthy and far fuller than they had any right to be. 

He wasn’t rolling in wealth, but he had a six-month cushion, an emergency fund, all his bills were paid up, and there were a few dollars in his wallet for spending money. Nick’s one credit card had enough on it that it would farm his credit score, but not become damaging as long as he made his payments on time. A network of automated payments and emailed confirmations made his recordkeeping a near afterthought. He’d never been in such a stable financial position. Even his student loans were coming down. 

As he gazed around his spartanly furnished apartment, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the price he paid for it. His satchel plunked down on the kitchen counter and he padded through the living room to the master bedroom suite. A low table, sitting cushions, and a few blankets were all that he passed on his way. 

In the bedroom, the one concession to modern convenience was a bed, though it was disguised by the mountain of pillows covering the surface. The rest of the furniture was comprised of blanket boxes and storage chests—along with one particularly handsome armoire—from thrift stores and flea markets. His interior decorator had insisted. 

“Welcome home, Master.”

The words came from behind him. No matter how many times she did it, appearing behind him always made him jump. That had nothing to do with the thrill that shivered up his spine at hearing her voice. 

“Judy, do you enjoy startling me?”

“I do very much.” Her paws slid along his waist and he felt her pull herself flush against him. “It’s cute.”

“Cute, huh?” he snorted.

She purred and nuzzled his back. “Verily.”

He cast his eyes around desperately for a change of topic. “You’ve been decorating.”

“A little.” She drifted around him and took his paw. “I’ve spent a lot of time on the roof. This city is unlike anything I could have dreamed of.”

He squeezed her paw. “And it’s our home, now.”

“It is a long, long way from the sands of my homeland,” she said as she hopped onto the bed, giving him a tug. “But such an exciting place!”

“You handled the towns well enough.” He resisted her pull for a moment, but gave in with a smile. “And the airplane.”

“That was a surprisingly banal experience,” she tugged insistently him to place his paw on her hip and wrap her arms around his neck. “I’ve never flown so fast or high, but it was less exciting than riding a zephyr, by far.” 

He chuckled. “If it’s excitement you want, we have plenty of that.” 

Their lips met in a kiss that could have scorched the paint off the walls if it had continued for long, but Nick was prepared. He’d grown accustomed to his djinn’s passion. At least, enough to pull away before his brain completely melted.

“But it will have to wait.” The huge eyes and pouting lips almost made him cave. The paw snaking under his shirt didn’t help. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but we have an appointment.”

“We do?” Her surprise was obvious.

“Finnick called,” Nick said as he pulled away.

“The small angry one? He has found a…” Judy searched for the word, snapping her fingers. “What was it? A position for you?”

He lifted a book from the floor, waving it for her to see. “Not to be confused with the ‘positions’ you’ve been so fixated on.”

“The Kama Sutra is fascinating,” she enthused. “To think that carnal passions would be codified into an instructional folio.”

Nick smirked as he set the book back down on the lid of a conveniently placed chest. “Just wait until you learn about sex ed.”

“Sex… Ed.” Her head cocked. “Edward? Is he a friend?”

Nick bit back a snort of amusement, the image of his 9th grade health teacher flashing through his mind. “I’ll explain later. We have a meeting with an old acquaintance of mine.” 

Judy slipped to the floor. “If you know this person, what role did Finnick play in these arrangements?”

“None.” Nick fiddled with a pen for a moment, before slipping it back into his pocket. “Finnick’s come up dry. He hasn’t been able to find anything for me, yet. So, he… suggested I reached out to someone I knew.”

“You hesitate…” She moved closer to him and placed a paw on his chest. “And feel regret. Why?”

Reluctant to delve into the subject, he sighed. “The professor and I aren’t on the best of terms. It took a lot of convincing to get me to make an appointment with him.”

“By Finnick?” Judy asked, and was rewarded with a nod. When he failed to continue on his own, she pressed, “Are things truly so dire?”

He sighed and nodded again.

With a gallic shrug, she asked, “Why would this professor of yours need such an expenditure of efforts?” 

Nick sat on the bed. “Do you remember your namesake?”

“Yes.” She hopped up to join him. “This ‘Judy’ you were besotted with.”

With a rueful nod, he added, “She’s his daughter.”

“Oh, I see…” Judy leaned back on her palms. “What happened between you and her soured your relations with your mentor. Is that right?”

“Professor Mayfield is a well-respected professor of ancient history and a mentor of mine from my pre-doctorate work,” Nick reminisced. “To be honest, I owe him for my acceptance into the doctoral program, at all. The recommendation he wrote was a massive help.”

Judy’s head cocked. “You’re speaking in tongues, again, Master. And I don’t think you answered my question.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m in his debt. And, yes, what happened between Judy and I made things very awkward with the professor. I haven’t spoken to him since she and I went our separate ways.”

Through pursed her lips she asked, “How long ago was that?”

“Almost four years.” He shrugged awkwardly.

“That is plenty of time.” She rolled her shoulders and grinned. “You will see.”

The supernatural rabbit snapped her fingers and her silk-and-almost-nothing clothing vanished. They were replaced by what Nick could only call the college student uniform—form-fitting jeans, a worn t-shirt, and a faded hoodie. He’d seen legions of graduate students and undergrads wear exactly that over the years and it was basically standard for the chillier time of year. All the more so considering they had just left a landscape where sixty degrees Celsius wasn’t uncommon. It was impressive how well she’d learned to camouflage herself since they’d left the desert. 

“I don’t know, Judy,” Nick muttered as she collected her jacket. “People tend to hold on to things like that.”

“Trust your djinn’s instincts,” she retorted cheerfully as she tossed him his jacket. “I was right about that cab driver, wasn’t I?”

“And many others,” Nick admitted easily. “I can’t help but feel anxious about this one, though.”

“Come.” Nick’s keys sailed from her paw to his. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we can return. And I can make the worries of your day a memory.”

~

Half an hour later Nick was standing outside one of his old university haunts. The Archaeology Department was a beautiful old brick building. It was partly covered by ivy vines and desperately in need of a bath, but that hadn’t changed in probably a century. The chipped marble stairs, the carved oak double doors, and the brass bannister that was only shiny on the curled knob at the end were all the same. Nick couldn’t help but smile wistfully. 

Judy’s paw touched his arm. “Are you well, master?”

“Yes.” He smiled down at her. “A little nostalgia. Nothing more.”

“Still nervous?” she teased.

Nick side-eyed her. “Yes, but I’m have faith in my djinn.” 

“Your faith will be rewarded, master,” she replied blithely. “Trust in that.”

Nick cringed. “Um, Judy? Before we go in, could you not call me master in public?”

“Whyever not?” She glanced up at him quizzically. “I am yours, bonded and happily so. Why would I conceal it?”

“I’m not asking you to ignore me,” he amended, “just don’t use that particular word. It has a variety of implications-”

“That could affect your social standing, I presume?” Judy’s eye roll was epic and unappreciated.

His eyes and voice hardened slightly. “Or make for a few really uncomfortable questions…” 

“Does the word master not imply ownership in this place?” she asked taken aback. 

“It does,” Nick waivered, struggling to find the right words, “but usually in ways that are frowned upon with varying degrees of severity.”

Looking unimpressed, Judy crossed her arms. “Such as?” 

He mirrored her gesture. “Slavery is illegal, for one thing.”

She blinked and her brows furrowed. “Oh! How unusual.”

Chalking that little comment up to cultural differences, Nick decided not to ask. Besides, he really didn’t want to be having this conversation. Clearing his throat, he continued. “And the other usually involves, um… Shall we say deviant socio-sexual behaviors?”

“And your culture is pretty ‘uptight’ about that.” She looked up uncertainly. “Is that the right word?”

Nick snickered into his paw, “It is.”

“Well,” she waved her paw dismissively, “I’m perfectly content with our sexual behaviors and whatever your people consider “deviant” is their issue.”

A throbbing began in his temples. “Please, Judy.”

Her paws lifted in acquiescence. “I will refrain from humiliating you, or getting you arrested. I swear on my blood and kin.”

“Thank you.” Nick reached for the door. 

“And I’ll expect payment for my restraint later,” Judy purred as his paw closed on the handle.

His mind stalled. “Um…”

“Nothing untoward, I assure you,” she promised. “I simply wish to be educated in these “deviant practices”, so I will acclimatize better.”

“That I can do,” he replied quickly, relief evident in his voice.

“And the best way to learn is to practice,” she chirped as she passed.

Nick held the door an extra beat before following her, trying to fight off the blush and worry that flooded him. His life was very different now and he was still adjusting. Judy was many things—out of her time, endlessly curious, capricious, and open about her desires of all kinds. It was frightening and thrilling to the fox. Especially when he remembered that she was devoted to him. It was still a very new to him and the realization continued to sneak up on him at times, even after several months. He was a lucky, lucky fox and he would be damned before he let himself forget that, even if he still didn’t fully understand.

Inside, Nick led the way through the maze of hallways to the professor’s office. Judy looped her arm through his in a gesture of support- or possession. It was also her favorite way to touch him in public without getting in trouble for it. He felt very nervous about visiting his former mentor. Bringing a female companion only added to his worry, but he strove to let it go. 

At the door, Nick took a moment to smooth his button-down shirt and straighten his jacket before knocking. A muffled response came from the other side and Nick seriously contemplated walking away. Before he could respond or flee, Judy pushed the door open with one paw and pulled him along with the other. 

The elderly corsac fox sitting at the desk in the tiny office snorted in amusement. “Still getting led around by the nose, eh, Nicolas?”

“More the paw than the nose,” he commented, mostly towards the rabbit.

The corsac snorted again. 

“You try to stop her,” Nick babbled. “I know where I’d place my bet.”

The professor barked a laugh. “It’s good to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor. And gained some fashion sense.”

Nick cleared his throat, trying not to fuss with his new shirt. “All her doing, sir.”

Professor Mayfield held up a paw. “Not sir, Nicolas. Professor, or Edwin, please.”

That had Nick shifting to stand a little straighter. “I didn’t think you would welcome such informality.”

“I didn’t balk at your awkward jokes.” Mayfield shook his head sadly. “You always end up so formal when you’re nervous. It scared off quite a few students, back in the day.”

Nick ducked his head. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Oh, for…” Edwin pinched his muzzle and turned to Judy. “Could you smack him or something?”

Judy’s fist made contact with Nick’s shoulder hard enough to make the professor wince. Nick groaned and rubbed the forming bruise. Judy smiled up at him. 

Edwin laughed. “You always did like the feisty ones. Good to see this one’s looking out for you.”

“Professor…” Nick began.

Edwin kicked away from his desk. “Sit down, Nicolas.”

With a growing sense of foreboding, he did as he was told, settling in the only other chair in the office. It was old and rickety—more a collection of splinters than a chair—and one of the professor’s proudest creations.

“Still at the woodworking, professor?” Nick ventured.

“Yes, and stop trying to get on my good side. It won’t work.” The old fox rummaged in his desk for a moment, pulling out a grimy glass, a chipped mug, and a paper cup, followed by a bottle of wry whiskey. “You were never on my bad side to begin with.”

“What happened between your daughter and I-” Nick began.

“Was between you two,” the professor finished for him. “I wasn’t happy with how your relationship ended, but I didn’t blame you for it. You were both adults. It happens.” He poured a small measure into each of the vessels. “I’m just glad you worked up the nerve to talk to me be before I crumbled away into dust.”

Nick shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I’m still sorry, professor.”

“Judith was and is a pain in the tail,” Edwin snapped. “She never learned manners, or respect for anyone she considered less gifted than herself. Growing up as the child of two successful academics and being quite brilliant in her own right… Let’s say it’s a point of paternal embarrassment and leave it at that, shall we?”

“Very good, sir.” Nick agreed.

Edwin frowned. “Miss?”

Judy punched Nick in the shoulder again and the fox sucked a sharp breath through his teeth. “Bloody hells, rabbit!”

“It’s for your own good,” Judy replied sweetly.

“I like this one, Nicolas.” The professor chuckled. “And as your flustered fox, there, has neglected his manners, your name is…?”

“Judy,” she chirped.

The corsac’s eyes popped for a moment before a slow grin spread on his face. “I’ve heard of having a type, boy, but down to the name?”

“Coincidence,” Nick muttered.

Judy draped an arm over Nick’s shoulder with a knowing grin and leaned on him. Nick tugged his collar. The professor laughed.

“So, you’re here about the job.” Edwin held out the mug to Judy and the paper cup to Nick. “It’s yours. There won’t be any glory or accolades for a bit. You’re at the bottom of the barrel, here. Starting from scratch, but nowhere to go but up.”

Nick felt the tension bleed out of his shoulders. “I appreciate the opportunity.”

“Oh, tosh.” The professor waved his paw. “I’m getting the best help there is at a dirt-cheap rate. You deserve better.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” the red todd quipped.

“Hmm…” Edwin leveled a flat gaze at his new assistant. “Don’t sell yourself short, boy. You’re down, but not out. Not by half.”

“It’s hard to see it sometimes,” Nick shrugged affably, “but I can only try, right Edwin?”

“That’s the spirit! Or the start of it, anyway. Now,” Edwin lifted his glass, “To proving the bastards wrong!”

Nick smiled despite himself. It felt good to have one more ally. 

Judy squeezed his shoulder and lifted her mug. “To small steps on a great journey.”

“To stubbornness.” Nick lifted his paper cup and tapped the other vessels. “And good friends.”

~

With his new position secured, there were several things that still needed doing. None of them were going to happen. Judy insisted on celebrating his good fortune after he showed her more of the university and he knew better than to argue. 

Their tour started well enough. With the pressure of meeting Edwin off his shoulders, Nick found it very easy to play the role of tour guide through the lecture halls, offices, lab spaces, and university museum. Simple explanations were offered and accepted at each step. On a basic level Academia is not a complex thing. Education and research are pretty straight forward until you add the unavoidable politics to it and Judy had no interest in that. Not yet, anyway. Nick found it refreshing—and relieving—to have the topic put off. He was enjoying himself and wanted it to last.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last as long as he’d hoped. They were wandering through an exhibit from the university’s Ottoman collection when Judy stopped dead in her tracks. She was staring at a pendant. It was huge—easily the size of Nick’s open paw—and set with a massive cabochon-cut green stone that looked like honey jade.

Nick padded up behind her and asked, “What is it?”

Her finger tapped the glass over the card. “’Found at Alexandretta dig site 1938. Semi-precious stone pendant, believed to be from offshoot line of Ottoman kings. Gold, Smoky quartz and rare rivulated white jade.’ Unbelievable.”

“So?” He eyed the piece in question. “It’s a bauble from another dead empire.”

“Of course, it isn’t,” she snapped.

As Nick looked on in astonishment Judy snapped her fingers, reached through the glass as though it were a liquid, and flicked the pendant with her finger. She withdrew her arm and stepped away from the case with her arms crossed. A moment later, it shimmered and an irate reflection took shape. It seemed to wriggle feebly out of the pendant and flop onto the glass like a confused, disoriented eel. Nick had to rub his eyes. The reflection was a rabbit—or rabbit-ish from the ears—but that was where the reflection stopped looking like Judy. 

It was male, for one thing, but that was only discernable from the clothes. It wore the same baggy pants Judy favored, coupled with what appeared to be a vest and turban. And where she was all pink, purple and grey, this rabbit mirror-image was all greys, whites, and greens, except for the turban. The head covering was a vibrant, opalescent red. However, while the clothes were somewhat discernable, the body in them was vague—barely more than a lightly opaque silhouette.

With an ethereal boom, the reflection spoke, “Who disturbs my slumber?”

“Me,” snapped Judy. 

The grey-white form sagged slightly. “Who is me?” And recoiled unhappily. “What language am I speaking?”

“A new one,” Judy stated. “Will you wake up already?”

“I’ve been conscious for twenty seconds.” The buck rubbed his eyes with his fists. “I don’t even know what day it is.”

“Try century,” she countered sharply. “You’ve been asleep for over a millennium.”

That got the mirror-rabbit’s eyes open. “A millennium? Are you sure?” 

A dull thud sounded from the display as a turbaned head met the glass panel.

Judy choked down a laugh. “Verily.”

The form began frantically looking around, his confusion mounted with every moment. “Where am I? What is this thing? Get me out of here!”

“It’s called glass.” Judy groaned. “You are so useless, sometimes.”

“Judy,” Nick ventured quietly, “Who—or, rather what—is this?”

“This is an ifrit, Master,” she scoffed. “Though a poor example of one.”

“Oi!” the ifrit blustered. “Is that any way to talk to a prisoner?”

“It is when they were caught because they napped for centuries and grew so weak that something as paltry as this ensnares them.” Judy crossed her arms. “Especially, when they’re in my debt.”

The form cringed. “Ah… I don’t suppose I could press you to extend the terms of the loan?”

“You are in no position to ask for anything, ifrit.” Judy jabbed a digit at the fretting reflection. “You’ll pay your debt to me with the interest of a thousand years and the penalty for breaking your word.”

“How shall I do that, pray tell?” it snipped. “I’m slightly less substantial than a ghost.”

“The result of your own stupidity and easily remedied.” Judy turned to Nick, “Master, I humbly request that you name this jackanapes and so give him a proper form.”

Nick blinked owlishly. “Why?”

She bared her teeth. “So, I can tear an ear off him.”

The ifrit grabbed his cranial appendages protectively, shouting, “No!”

“And what would I get out of this?” Nick inquired.

“What he owes me will become yours. And, you will have my gratitude.” The hungry look in her eyes made it abundantly clear what form her gratitude would take. 

Before Nick could swallow and nod the ifrit called out. “Parlay! Mortal, I would strike a bargain with you.”

Nick dragged his eyes from Judy’s face and lifted an eyebrow at the washed-out form in the glass. “Your terms?”

“I will accept your naming if you give me your protection,” it snapped without hesitation.

“That sounds like I’m giving a lot without getting anything in return,” Nick countered.

A ghost of a smile flitted across Judy’s face as she whispered, “You’re learning.”

“You’ll have my service,” the vague form crowed. “My people are spirits of fire and air. Crafters and guardians from time immemorial!”

Nick hummed before turning to Judy. “It’s not a bad deal.”

“You’ll gain another servant. One who knows much of the past. It would benefit us.” She shrugged ruefully. “And him, as well. With a name he will be grounded and given a chance to adapt to this world, again.”

Nick returned his attention to the glass, “Conditions, ifrit. You will pay your debt to Judy and obey me as she does.”

“Yes, obviously,” the ifrit prompted impatiently. “And?”

“And treat her with respect as your senior in the house.” 

A strangled sound escaped the trapped form, causing Judy to burst into laughter. Nick glanced between the despondent mirage and the giggling djinn. Somehow, the buck looked even more washed out, while Judy was preening.

Nick leaned into Judy and muttered, “What’d I do?”

Judy guffawed and beamed up at him affectionately. “Ifrits are proud. They find bending the knee to anyone difficult and now he’s second to me, a lowly djinni.”

“I’ve never said that!” the ifrit whined. 

“Not in so many words, you pompous oaf,” she countered and turned back to Nick. “Placing him beneath me was all the revenge I could ask for. An ear would grow back with time, but the blow to his pride will linger. Thank you, master.”

“Yes, yes. Salt for the wounds,” the tinny whining continued. “Can we get on with it, then? I accept your terms.”

Nick held up a paw. “Just to clarify, naming him will free him?”

“Unfortunately,” Judy confirmed. “That pendant is his home, like my bottle. His people can be caged in reflections, so when he answered my knock, he got trapped. That glass is practically a mirror and he’s too weak to escape it as he is now.”

“Uncalled for!” it barked.

Judy’s smile and tone were saccharine to the point of pain. “Is it untruth?”

“I think I have the perfect name for you.” Nick interrupted, popping his eyebrows at Judy. “She’s called you a jackanapes, so I name you Jack.”

“What, really?” the white rabbit managed before the glass ejected him face-first onto the museum floor, a fully corporeal rabbit.

Nick chuckled and turned to Judy. “What does he owe you, anyway?”

“Six figs, a loaf of bread, a pair of golden chalices, and one skin of good palm wine,” Jack answered grumpily. “Nothing significant.”

“Not until you add in the duration, oath-breaking, and benefit he gained from the loan,” Judy quipped.

“Yes, of course. You’ll get your hoard- what was it? Judy?” Jack stood, dusting himself off. “What sort of name is that?”

“A fitting one,” she preened, leaning into Nick’s side suggestively.

“Ah.” Jack straightened his turban and faced the pair. “I see. Well, what now, Master?”

While Nick was uncomfortable with having another “possession” to worry about, he was getting used to the title. That he found more concerning than the fact that he had another out-of-their-time-and-place being to deal with. On the plus side, Judy was at least acquainted with him and he seemed to be afraid of her despite his supposedly greater power. He was unlikely to be too problematic.

The buck stood a touch taller than his djinn by maybe an inch and a half. He was a few shades on the grey-side of true white and possessed of several striking black stripes on his face and ears. Nick had seen a few more on his ribs and back when he’d face planted into the floor, as well. His clothes were richer in cut and substance than Judy’s normal garb, archaically patterned and trimmed with rose gold ornaments and accents. Gold hoops hung from his ears and lean muscle showed through his fur. 

Nick cleared his throat. “Let’s just get home and figure it out from there.”

“There’s no need,” Judy interrupted. “We can finish our tour and collect him before we leave. I’m sure he needs to pack.”

“Pack?” Nick looked in confusion between the two. 

“Yes, Master.” Jack jabbed a thumb at the pendant still sitting in the display case. “As in prepare my home for relocation? I’ll need to tie things down, at least.”

“Wait. Waitwaitwait.” Nick didn’t like the direction this was going. “That can’t come with us.”

Jack cocked his head. “Whyever not?”

“It’s university property,” Nick explained. “We take it and someone will end up in prison.”

“That’s absurd!” the striped rabbit scoffed. “It’s my home. I own it.”

“Don’t bother, Jack,” Judy cut in. “The laws in this time are very strange.”

“I’m not leaving my residence in this place. It just isn’t cricket.” A strange look passed over his face. “Cricket? A bug? What would that have to do with anything?”

“It’s the language, ifrit,” she huffed in annoyance. “Did you forget?”

Jack groaned. “It is such a nuisance to be loquact- loqut- loqatis?”

“Loquacious?” Nick ventured.

“That’s it.” Jack straightened his back and pronounced, “Loquatic... Blast and damn!”

“Give up, Jack. You’re out of practice.” Judy grabbed Nick’s paw and led him away from the annoyed ifrit. “Just make a facsimile of your home to hang on the peg, there, and we’ll get you when we’re done.”

Jack grumbled something unintelligible in a language Nick was sure no one had heard spoken in centuries and waved them off. Nick wanted to stay and argue against obvious theft of university property until he saw Jack cross his arms at shoulder height and tap his foot. The buck shattered into a billow of smoke, which slid through the glass and into the pendant. Before the last tendrils vanished into the stone, Nick swore they turned to the glass and blew a raspberry at it. Suddenly, his worries about prison time were less pressing. 

His world no longer followed the rules they used to and he had to accept that. The little grey paw holding his was a reminder and a comfort. Having faith in her had never let him down. This was just another occasion that called for it. After a silent prayer to Karma, Nick put the situation from his mind. 

~

A couple hours later, their impromptu tour-date was concluding on a pleasant note. They’d covered all Nick’s favorite spots on campus, even visiting the ‘roach coaches’ by the student center and the Caffeine Oasis. Judy was amused by the Oasis until the proprietresses made her a cup of their special blend tea. He’d carried her out bodily after her seventh cup in twenty minutes, much to the amusement of Amanda and Carlisle. 

From there, they’d visited the library and were headed back to meet Jack when everything went wrong. A feeling like being punched in the guts pulled him up short. Nick recognized the voice too late and had nowhere to hide. All he could do was hope she didn’t recognize him.

“Oh my gosh! Nicolas, is that you?”

Sometimes, life was just unfair. 

Turning slowly, Nick tried to plaster a decent smile on his features. He figured he managed at least a cold rictus, perhaps a panicked grin, instead. The tittering laugh that greeted him when he turned to face his ex-girlfriend told him clearly that he wasn’t fooling anyone—not her, or the small cadre of hangers-on that had come up in her wake. 

“Hello, Judith. It’s been a while,” Nick croaked out.

Judith Mayfield was a little odd for a corsac fox. She was short for her species and tended towards the plump side. That put her a little shorter than Nick and curvy. Dangerously so, as a select few had found out first hand. She was one of nature’s cruel ones—not evil, but far from kind. And it showed. She had a pretty face, a lovely figure, and a smile that could light up a stadium. All of which were sadly counterbalanced by her personality. 

Her eyes judged. If a mammal was found unworthy, she was quick to dismiss them. If the subject refused to be ignored, a vicious tongue lashing was usually enough to discourage even the thickest skinned. Her intelligence made her a force to be reckoned with and her indifference to others gave her room to be vicious. She cut her teeth in academia without using her parents’ connections, which was impressive enough, but that success never seemed to be enough. Her reputation reflected that.

She had the brains, drive, and capabilities to get anywhere she wanted. Her looks were just another weapon in her arsenal. She was, in a word, beautiful. And she knew it. When it wasn’t employed as leverage, it was bait for anyone stupid enough to underestimate her. Regardless of any of that, she always had a small retinue of mammals trailing behind her. TA’s, a personal assistant, students from her lectures, associate professors, and others followed her around, hoping for a crumb or two from her table. 

Once, he’d been among them. For some reason, Nick had found her fascinating and somehow managed to wit-and-wiles his way into her life for a time. He convinced himself that there was a real mammal under the disdainful, spoiled brat exterior she always presented. He may have been right, but he never found out himself. There’d been moments where she’d been oh-so sweet, but moments only—breadcrumbs leading to a very nasty end. 

“It’s Miss Mayfield to you and I could have gone longer, honestly.” She looked him over, shaking her head. “I’m surprised you were allowed on campus.”

“It is open to the public, Judith,” Nick replied curtly. “And I had an appointment.”

“Oh? What business would a disgrace like you have here?” She waved a manicured paw. “No one would be stupid enough to bankroll you, so what? A janitorial position? Gardener?”

The small crowd’s reactions were a mix of chagrin, amusement, and pity, but none of compassion. Some were there for the show, after all. The rest wanted other things and wouldn’t get them if they dared to commiserate with her prey. It was part of the humiliation that Judith enjoyed dishing out—to see clearly that there was no help for you.

It being familiar territory, Nick wasn’t unduly perturbed. “Research assistant, actually.”

“And who was stupid enough to make that mistake?” she shot back.

A tiny smile slid onto his lips. “Professor Mayfield was kind enough to take me on.”

The vixen’s cold, self-satisfied grin faltered. “Daddy did? He hired you?”

Nick’s smile grew a touch. “The job was mine before I showed up, apparently.”

“It just proves that he’s losing his faculties,” Miss Mayfield snipped before turning to the rabbit next to Nick. Her eyes raked over her new target. “And I see you found something to comfort you, too. Rebound much?” 

Bitterness closed his throat. Her smile had shifted from her preferred icy indifference to one he knew too well—the vicious, cutting remarks were already flowing and the unpleasant feelings with them. Nick was inundated with memories. Bad nights, ruined dates, and weekend-long arguments. A year’s worth of disappointment and regret rose in a tide, smothering him until he felt a familiar paw in his. The pain receded and the bitterness clouding his mind thinned. It didn’t stop there. 

In one moment of clarity he saw his situation. His relationship with his ex, how it began, progressed and ended were laid bare in the absence of his emotional hang-ups. Nick felt foolish for holding on for so long to something that was so minor in retrospect, but also liberated. He’d wasted years on her, but that was then. His grip firmed on the warm, little paw in his as the tension flowed off his shoulders and away.

Nick smirked and chuckled. “Rebound? It’s been four years.”

“Oh, please,” Judith scoffed. “You were a mess when I walked away from your sorry tail.”

“That’s what happens when people break up,” Nick countered. 

She sneered. “You ran off to another continent to get away from me.”

Nick laughed. “Is that what you thought?” He couldn’t fathom why this vixen had intimidated him so much, even up to a minute ago. “That I arranged a whole expedition to the other side of the world just to avoid you? Pursuing a dig site of monumental potential had nothing to do with it? Really?”

“Monumental idiocy, Nicolas.” Her nasty smirk was back, but weaker. “The dig was a bust.”

“It happens sometimes.” He shrugged diffidently. “Even the best of us can be wrong, as you’d know from experience.”

Her smirk vanished. “I’m never wrong.”

He held up a finger. “You just never admit it.”

“I wasn’t wrong about you,” Judith sniped. “I knew you were a hack and you’ve proven me right.’

Nick smiled and shrugged. “As time shall try.”

“You’re a failure and you’re back to try to worm your way into my good graces.” Miss Mayfield crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “It won’t work, Wilde. We’re done.”

“Do you really assume you were that good?” Nick scoffed. 

The vixen reeled like she’d been slapped. 

“We had a decent five months together and two months of misery.” Nick pressed on. “At the time? Yeah, I was in love, but that was before I learned how rotten you really are. Did it hurt for a while when we broke up? Also, yes. But that was then. I have no interest in anything you have to offer. Haven’t for some time.”

She gaped at him. No one had ever talked to her like that. 

“You know, considering you’re so focused on my supposed ‘interest’ in you four years after we broke up and I’ve clearly moved on, a psychologist could call that projecting. Are you sure you’re over me, Miss Mayfield?” Nick scratched his chin contemplatively. “How is your therapist, by the way?”

Judith rocked on her heels, looking between Nick and his companion, chewing on her words before spitting, “Does your little pet have a name?”

“I do.” Nick felt his djinn lean into his side. “Yours.”

The look of bewilderment on the corsac vixen’s face was priceless. 

“But I think that will confuse people,” Judy continued mildly, turning to Nick. “Does the obnoxious one possess another name?”

Nick answered by reflex. “Her middle name is Samantha.”

“Don’t call me that!” the vixen snapped heatedly. 

“The short of that would be ‘Sam’, would it not?” Judy continued, ignoring the angry grey fox. 

“No!” the vixen snapped. “No one calls me Sam. I hate that name.”

“Then, it’s perfect,” Judy purred. 

Nick watched his djinn take two steps forward and look his ex-girlfriend in the eye. The world seemed to pull in on Judy, like she had grown more substantial—more real—than her surroundings. When she spoke, her voice carried a thread of potency that hummed on the air and tickled the ears, sparking memories of fairy tales and children’s songs. 

“From this day forth, you will be known as Sam by everybody who knows you,” Judy intoned.

The tension in the air dissipated as quickly as it formed and Judy glided back to Nick’s side to thread her arm through his, the opposite paw coming to rest over his heart as she peered up at him through her lashes. “We wouldn’t want mammals to mix up who makes you scream all night, now would we?”

Nick couldn’t breathe for a moment, but when he did laughter came with it. Judy’s wide, satisfied smile buoyed his spirits and the look on Sam’s face was priceless. The cold, haughty princess looked like she’d been fed lemons soaked in ammonia and then doused with cold sewage. The sycophants were mostly stunned silent. Some looked confused. Others, afraid. A lynx with a ponytail clamped her painted nails over her muzzle to stop from laughing and an arctic vixen with bright blue eyes stared hard at Judy.

Unsettlement tickling at the back of his mind spurred Nick to back towards the door. “Nice seeing you, Sam! Let’s never do it again sometime.”

“Don’t call me that!” Sam barked.

“It’s your name, Samantha,” Judy called over her shoulder as she passed Nick. “Answer to it.” 

Nick noticed another hum of potency in Judy’s words and wanted to ask, but the scene in front of him made him shelve the idea for later.

An amazon river otter, presumably Miss Mayfield’s personal assistant or TA, shuffled up and said, “Samantha, we should go.”

“That is not my name!” Sam snapped.

The otter seemed confused, wobbling on his paws. “Then, what was your name again?”

Sam blinked owlishly. 

“It’s-” She seemed to gag on her words. 

“My name is-” she stalled again, shaking her head. 

Stamping her foot in a very unladylike manner, she balled her fists and boomed, “My name is J. Samantha Mayfield!” only to slap her paws over her mouth in horror.

Nick’s eyebrows tried to hide in his ears. Before the angry vixen could come after him, he followed the sound of Judy’s ethereal giggle out the door and away as quickly as his feet could carry him.

Curiosity thrummed through him. He was desperate to know what had happened with his newly re-monikered ex-girlfriend, but Judy didn’t give him a chance. Nick had to chase her practically the whole way back to the museum and once they arrived there was no respite. Jack had fashioned an exact replica of his home and swapped it with the genuine article while they were gone. They found him chatting up a couple coeds from the agricultural school. 

He was very displeased at the interruption. “You couldn’t have waited another fifteen minutes?”

“Times have changed, Jack,” Judy chortled. “A quickie behind the nearest sand dune isn’t really done these days.”

“So, I’ve been told,” Jack commented. “Apparently a ‘stairwell’ is the new venue of choice for an expedient liaison. Though, I don’t see any wells around here.”

“Did you find a playmate in our absence?” Judy asked in amusement.

Jack sighed. 

“Alas not. I did get many gifts though. These paper slips are quite popular, it seems.” The ifrit reverently held up a small stack of post-it notes, loose-leaf corners and index cards. “Though such poor scribing… a sad use of such a rare commodity.”

Nick took a moment to pinch his brows together as the pair of otherworldly beings sifted through the pile. “Jack… I’ll explain those later. For now, keep them safe and let’s get home, shall we?”

Jack nodded sharply. 

“Of course, Master.” The stack vanished into his vest. “I look forward to seeing my lord’s abode.”

Before Nick could do anything, Judy interjected, “Perhaps, we would make less of a scene on our trip if you were to hide yourself, Jack. Give Nick your pendant and have a rest. We’ll wake you when we arrive home.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Nick admitted. “You do stand out a bit.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to cause you undue trouble, Master.” Jack sniffed. “And it has been a tiring day.”

“All two hours of it,” Judy snarked.

“I will rest until I am summoned,” Jack stated primly. With that, the ifrit procured his home, looped the large golden chain over Nick’s head, and vanished into it with a yawn. 

~

The trip home was uneventful and they arrived quickly. Nick’s nerves were raw by they time they made it through the door, though. He didn’t enjoy transporting what was effectively a stolen artifact from the very university with whom he had just gained employment, for one thing. For another, Judy was being extremely pushy. Her desire to get home was bordering on the frantic.

Nick found himself shoved through his own door to be a strangely amusing experience. “Judy, what has gotten into you?”

In response, she reached up and shushed him with a paw on his lips. She removed her paw, but raised one finger telling him to wait, then moved it to her own lips.

“Shhh.” She winked. “He’s sleeping.”

Her eyes darted to Nick’s chest where the pendant was hidden. Nick nodded his understanding. Judy beckoned him to remove it and he did, allowing her to slip the cumbersome ornament over his head. As soon as it was free, she scampered to the kitchen and hung it on a cabinet knob right by the coffee machine. 

Nick was about to ask her what she was doing, but found himself instead pressed against the wall by the door.

“Judy,” he stage-whispered, “what are you doing?”

“To Jack?” she purred quietly back, caressing his cheek, “I’m waiting for that machine to wake up. When it makes that drink you love it screeches, does it not?”

“Oh…” he snickered.

“And to you…” her paws wrenched his shirt away from his belt and all but dove into his belly fur. “I’m showing you how I welcome my master home.”

Nick wanted to speak, but he’d forgotten how. The kiss that seared his mind to a standstill tasted of dry wind and desert flowers. No matter how many times it happened, he never got used to it. Judy’s aggressive desire and hunger for him always left him breathless and very quickly aroused. His trousers weren’t even undone before he was straining to be released. The rush of artificially chilled air drifted over his manhood for an instant before he was enveloped in a moaning heat. 

His toes curled. The world went white as he emptied himself into her mouth. It never took long when she was serious and looking down at her, he knew she was serious. Her long, forked tongue danced slowly over her lips. The fire in her eyes flickered. Nick knew he was in for a very long night.


End file.
